“He did that,” confirmed Jan.  “There were no fox-tricks about him!”

“Wait, Jan!” said the mistress, “we’ll just speak of the old people for the present.  Do you remember the long silver-mounted stick father used to carry?”

“Yes; both the stick and the high leather cap he always wore when he went to church.”

“So you remember the cap, too?  Do you know what father did at the last?  He told me to fetch him his stick and cap, and then he gave them to Eric.  ’I could have given you something that was worth more money,’ he told Eric, ’but I am giving you these instead, for I know you would rather have something I have used.’”

“That was an honour well earned.”  When Jan said that he noticed that the old mistress drew her shawl closer together.  He was sure now she was hiding something under it—­maybe a present from Glory Goldie!  “She’ll get round to that in time,” he thought.  “All this talk about her father is only a makeshift.”

“I have often spoken of this to my children,” the old mistress went on, “and also to Lars Gunnarson.  Last spring, when Eric lay sick, I think both Lars and Anna expected that Lars would be called to the bedside, as Eric had once been called.  I had brought him in the stick and cap so they’d be handy in case Eric wished to give them to Lars; but he had no such thought.”

The old mistress’s voice shook as she said that, and when she spoke again her tone sounded anxious and uncertain.

“Once, when we were alone, I asked Eric what his wishes were, and he said if I wanted to I could give the things to Lars when he was gone as he had not the strength to make speeches.”

Whereupon the mistress of Falla threw back her big shawl, and then Jan saw that she held under it a long, silver-mounted ebony stick and a stiff, high-crowned leather cap.

“Some words are too heavy for utterance,” she said with great gravity.  “Answer me with just a nod, Jan, if you will.  Can I give these to Lars Gunnarson?”

Jan drew back a step.  This was a matter he had entirely dismissed from his mind.  It seemed such a long time since Eric of Falla died he hardly remembered how it happened.

“You understand, Jan, that all I want to know is whether Lars can accept the stick and cap with the same right as Eric.  You must know, as you were with him that time in the forest.  It would be well for me,” she added, as Jan did not speak, “if I could give them to Lars.  I believe there would be less friction afterward between the young folks and me.”

Her voice failed her again, and Jan began to perceive why she had aged so much the past few months; but now his mind was so taken up with other things that he no longer cherished the old resentment against his new employer.

“It’s best to forgive and forget,” he said.  “It pays in the long run.”

The old mistress caught her breath.  “Then it is just as I thought!” she said, drawing herself up to her full height.  “I’ll not ask you to tell what took place.  It’s best for me not to know.  But one thing is certain, Lars Gunnarson shall never get his hands on my father’s stick!”